


Ishtar Gate

by malna



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Angst and Humor, M/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-01-26 12:42:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21374332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malna/pseuds/malna
Summary: Ishtar was known as the goddess of love and war. One night in dire straits, Izaya comes to bargain at her gate.
Relationships: Heiwajima Shizuo/Orihara Izaya
Comments: 18
Kudos: 75





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KariHigada](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KariHigada/gifts).

In hindsight, none of this would have happened if it hadn't been for the haze of sleep clouding his head after Shizuo had been ripped from a dream by the shrilling doorbell in the dead of night.

"Opening hours are over," Shizuo rasps, blinking away the daze and possibly the apparition on his doorstep together with it. Trying his best to force some focus into vision, eyelids still heavy and sticky with crust. "Come back tomorrow to have your life cut short."

He slams the door in Izaya's pale face but the flea blocks it with an outstretched hand.

"I need to stay over for the night."

Izaya offers no explanation or teasing smirk to rinse down this ludicrous string of words. 

Shizuo has to firmly remind himself that he has no prior experience of confusing dreams with reality so it would follow that Izaya indeed has just roused him from sleep to ask for an overnight, straight off as if asking a friend for a pencil.

The only logical explanation to this nonsense dawns on Shizuo at this point.

He snaps his fingers loudly right in Izaya's face.

"Are you sleepwalking now?" Shizuo frowns. “I've never known you to sleepwalk before.”

With an irritated scowl, Izaya barges in, having squeezed past Shizuo in the doorway.

Shizuo is unclear on how he feels about Izaya being overtly suicidal while in his presence.

His clarity resurfaces by the time Izaya has dumped a bagful of clothes and hygiene products onto white sheets on Shizuo's bed.

Something in Shizuo snaps there and then, bringing him to full alertness. He grabs Izaya firmly by the collar of his shirt and slams him against the near wall. With his forearm Shizuo pins Izaya by the neck, eyes boring into the red irises.

This close, he can see clear signs of fatigue on Izaya's face. His skin looks pale and rough. Faint bags shadow his eyes.

“You have ten seconds to tell me why I shouldn't kill you on the spot.” 

"Let's not be overdramatic~"

"Five."

"I've brought you premium class handmade Havana cigars from my trip to Cuba."

"Great. I'll inherit them."

Face half obscured by cascades of black hair, Izaya bows his head miserably but his mouth quirks up at one corner.

"Only to trade them for hair dye in prison. Such a waste," he says.

They're in stalemate for a poignant minute before Shizuo gets tired of it and proceeds to brutally haul Izaya towards the door.

"Wait!" Izaya cries out. There's genuine desperation tinging his voice which startles Shizuo into a halt. 

"Alright, have it your way, you crude brute." Izaya cuts him a venomous look. "I have my contacts in the Immigration Bureau. Refuse to play nice and watch as Vorona's next application for visa extension gets chopped and screwed."

Shizuo looks momentarily stunned while Izaya gets rolling; he tips his head back, relishing his happy thoughts.

"My, my, she would find herself in quite a pickle. What do you say, Shizu-chan, what's a girl to do? Oh, I get it!" Izaya snaps his fingers. "I guess she could get married to a Japanese guy she so fancies anyway! Get her citizenship, problem solved. Ah, wait." He levels his striking gaze right back on Shizuo, a vicious smirk splitting his face like knife. "She can't do that."

Shizuo only narrowly evades giving in to the obvious provocation.

"You wouldn't mess with a Russian assassin." He squints at Izaya. "Not even you are that insane."

Izaya smiles at him but it's all wrong. His eyes look dead tired and grim.

"Will you bet her new forged life on it?"

"It's more the case of whether I bet _yours_. Try something funny and she won't grant you the time to run to me."

And this is true enough, Izaya must also realize. If he's still willing to play this card, obviously the stakes are high.  
Shizuo takes a step back, crosses his arms and eyes Izaya carefully.

"What did you get yourself into?"

Izaya giggles and it comes off unhinged. 

"Aw, and here I thought you've finally moved on, Shizu-chan. It's been a year-"

"Ten months."

A ghost of a smile flickers over Izaya's expression.

"Be as it may. The way it went down, it's touching that you would still _care_-"

"I'm not heartless like you," Shizuo bites off the words and it has the desired effect of clamming Izaya up. "I care if you live or die."

"Big of you." Izaya has the gall to look dejected. "It's a good thing we'd split up before all this adoration could go to my head."

Wearily, he sinks down onto Shizuo's bed. The sight of it - the sound, _the smell_ \- cuts through Shizuo like lightning. Nails dig into palms balling into fists.

Izaya raises an eyebrow looking up at him. He huffs a laugh. 

"Look at you now. Staring me down like I'm a cockroach taking a dump on your pristine linen. Not exactly how I remember-"

He doesn't get to finish this thought as Shizuo breaks into a feat of rage like only Izaya has ever been capable of eliciting. He's barely present in his mind before Izaya has ended up outdoors together with his belongings, screaming colorful insults and abusing the doorbell. Shizuo barricades the door with a wardrobe and goes back to bed, carefully avoiding the spot where Izaya had planted his ass. 

Shizuo puts pillows over his ears to muffle the noise. It works, to an extent.

He dreams of soft, small cries Izaya utters as he's having his thighs tattooed in some dodgy parlor amidst total wasteland. Shizuo is shaky on how he likes the pattern and he sure doesn't get its meaning but he will be there when all is done to take Izaya home.

Izaya's legs hurt and Shizuo can tell every step he takes causes him pain. Once Izaya has walked up to stand beside him, Shizuo catches on to an unfortunate predicament: he doesn't have a driving licence. He doesn't know how to drive, and he cannot take Izaya home.

The next time Shizo is wrenched out of his sleep, it's still dark outside. Heavy rain drums on windows, relentless as the booming voice outside that does not belong to Izaya. Next time Shizuo opens the door, it is to greet a couple of police officers, looking bored and weary.


	2. Chapter 2

"You're shitting me," Shizuo grits through clenched teeth.

Looming from behind a policewoman with a blonde ponytail creeps in Izaya, grinning at Shizuo like he's on a field trip.

“Mr Hashioka, your husband is currently registered as resident at this address,” the other one, a stiff looking clean cut guy informs. “If you wish to revoke his right to stay here, you need to file in an application letter--” Shizuo tunes out this gibber as rage builds inside him, heavy and hot.

The ponytail takes one look at him and proposes an out,

“Unless there's been domestic violence? If you've been physically abused-”

That startles a laugh from Shizuo. “Oh, I wish you tried,” he grins manically at Izaya still looking hyped.

He cracks his knuckles, and just standing there on his porch, shirtless and unarmed, Shizuo must still look dangerous enough against two people with guns and combat training under their belt that they visibly tense up. Izaya's eyes light up with mirth.

“Mr Hashioka,” the other one chimes in. “We are no trained marriage counselors but legally the situation here is straightforward. Unless your husband poses a real threat to your safety-”

Shizuo latches onto that.

“No, wait! He has threatened my friend just today!”

“I would never,” Izaya assures, looking scandalized. 

“Does your friend live here?” 

Now it's Shizuo's turn to look scandalized. Izaya snorts.

“He cut me with a knife,” Shizuo tries desperately. “Multiple times! I still have a scar from that time we first met.” He taps two fingers against his chest.

"_Aww,_" Izaya coos. 

“And you married him after?” The woman quirks up her eyebrow.

“Not right away!”

“I don't get payed enough for this,” the other one mutters under his nose, looking bored.

Meanwhile, Izaya slinks inside, for the second time this night, brushing against Shizuo in the doorway.

“You don't understand.” Shizuo looks over his shoulder to Izaya playing out a picture perfect of cute innocence, waving at the cops with a smile.

“Bye, officers! Thank you for your time and consideration.” It's so obviously fake that the policewoman regards Shizuo with an ounce of sympathy.

“When will his registration lapse after I file in the form?” Shizuo whispers at the crossroads between resignation and silent fury.

The guy huffs a derisive, ugly laugh, “When will I be transferred to homicide?”

And that does it.

Shizuo has been playing nice with these people. He had made progress; he's no ticking time bomb of a hormonal teenager any more.  
All the same, the door frame clutched in his palm crumbles with a loud crack. Shizuo looks at the man with the single-minded focus of fury.

“I can take you there straight away,” he answers, low and dark.

Both cops turn pale, rightfully so, but Shizuo has little time to savor their panic before his world tilts on its axis. He hears a shouted _"Goodnight!"_ as he's being violently pulled back in and a screaming flare of pain runs through his fingers where Izaya has smashed them kicking the door shut behind.

Shizuo redirects his rage instantly, _happily_, but his bloodied fist collides with the wall, denting a small crater, red rivulets erupting out and down to the floor.

Between pulling Shizuo inside, slamming the door and evading Shizuo's fist, Izaya has had little time to calculate his position and ended up trapped against the wall, cut off by the unyielding scaffold of Shizuo's arm and posture.

The police seem smart enough to have scrammed.

Never the one to cower under Shizuo's rage remains Izaya alone, standing his ground as he looks Shizuo in the eye. There's no challenge to it. Strangely enough, all Shizuo can feel is a sense of proximity. Closeness. Golden light from a lamp spilling over Izaya's hair damp with rain and silence of the night, sewn metrically with their breathing.

Izaya's gaze slips to Shizuo's lips briefly and Shizuo can tell it was very much unintentional by the barest of tension washing over his expression, the one Shizuo is familiar with from the many times Izaya used to hold back a wince, or averting his eyes, or biting his lip.

And in that split second something occurs to Shizuo clear as day.

Angry Izaya, spiteful, hateful, vindictive Izaya, would have had a time of his life letting Shizuo have a go at the cops, knock them out and inevitably spend at least 48 hours in the arrest after they'd sent in enough reinforcement. All that while Izaya would have had his way getting a blissful sleepover with the bed and the house all for himself. Shizuo can picture this vividly, Izaya stretching in his bed like a cat, with a serene smile on his face as he thinks of his husband behind bars.

Moreover, a happy, loving, playful Izaya... would have done exactly the same thing.

That he didn't, that he would pass such a delicious opportunity, can mean one thing only: Izaya has little need for the place in and of itself, and a lot for Shizuo within it.

And this, Shizuo decides against his better judgment, this can be interesting.


	3. Chapter 3

Recently, the most interaction Shizuo got with his long-estranged husband played out in the ether, over the airwaves of a night radio broadcast rapidly gaining in following.

For Izaya, running his own broadcast had been a side job at first, something he mostly came up with as safety measure of sorts. People known to the public were inconvenient to kill, simple as that. It wasn't foolproof precaution by any means but it was leverage, one in a large set that Izaya had studiously devised and employed.

It quickly turned out to be way more than that. Izaya's long night broadcast _Ishtar Gate_ was dedicated entirely to the nocturnal life of Tokyo as entry way to the world of urban legends, gang wars, love curses, headless shadows and mysteries. No one knew more about the inner workings of the city's underbelly than Izaya did, and listeners all over Tokyo drunk up the stories poured in his smooth, soothing voice. It wasn't just about facts, which Izaya offered in spades - unpredictable, shocking, sometimes moving. The other factor that made his broadcast into such a huge success was his love for Tokyo and its citizens. His genuine, unending curiosity and fascination.

For the first time, Izaya got a chance to portray his whole world as seen through his lenses, from rooftops and scaffolds, doused in neon lights, blurred in speed of the run. A world soaked in grief, love and envy, greed and lust and dreams - the whole overlaying kaleidoscope of sharp bright colors that opened up Tokyo to the threshold of an otherworldly realm.

Izaya spinned his enthralling tale with no beginning and no end, all the while brushing past people and places for the listeners to recognize, to set it firmly in what they knew and understood, only to turn that understanding on its axis, explain everything anew.

People of Tokyo loved _Ishtar Gate_. With one exception. The notorious grumpy caller referred to as Shizu-chan by the broadcast anchor.

Radio station executives had issued blocking all calls from the man's number up until Izaya persuaded them otherwise, asking to be trusted on this. He had always enjoyed much leeway with his own program and that worked out splendidly, so in the end the higher-ups had let him deal with the situation as he deemed fit. While at first the execs were all pissing their pants about how graphic threats of violence and gruesome death to their anchor were to reflect in the listening ratings, they needn't have worried. 

Izaya's intuition turned out to be impeccable once again, as the infamous calls gained raging popularity. People grew to love the long night fights decorated with colorful insults, promises of violence as well as declarations of undying resentment. Many recognized the duo, and they assured everyone else that these conversations were by no means scripted.

Once in a blue moon, the dialogue would take a strange turn, and the caller would reflect on this or that obscure noodle vendor that Izaya had reported to have closed down, and they would both share their memories anchored to that place. Once or twice, Shizuo called while drunk. Izaya cut those calls immediately, bidding the man death by drowning in the toilet. Perceptive listeners may have realized then what everybody must have felt underneath all along - that this relationship they were strangely, silently accompanying over the months, was actually one of uncompromising respect and care, that it had value beyond the rating figures it produced, that it was protected and, interestingly enough, it was to remain intimate.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to Shizuo's cramped apartment. Final chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually finished a WIP! What?? '^^
> 
> Many thanks to the wonderful [Kari Higada](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KariHigada)! I don't know that I would have seen this through to the end if it wasn't for your soft spot for this verse. <3 Thank you!

"Okay, that does it,” Shizuo decides after a long session of staring at the ceiling when yet another tremor runs though Izaya's body lying next to him. His trembling keeps shocking Shizuo with odd bolts of unease. "Who do I need to kill?”

"Desperate to get rid of me already?” Izaya smiles ruefully. He turns on one side to face Shizuo, fingers dancing at the edge of his chest.

Izaya went straight for bed soon after the police had gone, apparently hoping to dissuade Shizuo from kicking him off of it with the prospect of sex. Shizuo was easily lured – he _had_ missed Izaya, miserably so, and it had been almost a year – so he plunged right into Izaya's mouth and body heat with desperate thirst, up until he had fully realized the state Izaya was in. Shaken, anxious, frantic. The trembling started out later, once Izaya had found himself wrapped in the warmth of Shizuo's arms. Like it was only then safe to let go of at least some of the tension eating away at him. At that point, all the arousal Shizuo was about to succumb to died out as swiftly as it had appeared.

"I really don't know.” Izaya looks lost and helpless. “The whole yakuza, maybe?” He huffs a faint laugh.

In his mind, Shizuo entertains the possibility.

Shizuo couldn't think straight with Izaya in such obvious distress so he went with his instinct rather than reason, scooped his husband in his arms and pulled him in close. Izaya burrowed his face under Shizuo's chin, breathing in deep. It was soothing, or so Shizuo thought, up until he felt Izaya's shoulders shake with stifled sobs.

Something had brought Izaya to this miserable broken state while Shizuo had carried on with his life unawares. Holding tight his husband's body heaving with sobs, Shizuo felt like a failure. Rational or not, such was the truth and reality of his inner response.

The realization grew hot inside him as minutes ticked by and Izaya calmed down a notch. It prickled at his fingertips, set his teeth on edge, till it became unbearable and Shizuo had to _do something_.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled in Izaya's neck where the pulse rushed beneath tender skin. He pressed a gentle kiss to the spot. "I'm sorry." 

Not the words Shizuo uttered often, but once out there, they poured like flood. 

He moved to press another peck at Izaya's ear, reddened with crying and grazing. "I'm sorry." Peeling his shirt off, Shizuo mouthed into Izaya's chest covered in sweat, and "I'm sorry," he imprinted on abused cuticles one by one. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”

"Shizuo-"

"Shut up. I'm not apologizing to you."

"Oh?"

"I'm not. I'm making amends to your body." 

Having unclasped the silver square buckle on the belt, Shizuo slid the black pants down Izaya's thighs as his hips rolled up, and it was one fluid motion back again, like no time had passed. Shizuo kissed the peak of one hipbone gently. "It's been good to me.”

Izaya bit his lip to stifle a whine, combed his fingers through Shizuo's hair. 

"Mm. In that case." His eyes on Shizuo were so full. Tipping his head back on the pillow, Izaya let out a long breath. "Don't let me interfere."

"I never should have."

Shizuo crawled his way back up the length of Izaya's body, grabbed a fistful of thick raven hair and sealed their mouths together in a searing kiss. _'It's a promise.'_

Shizuo washes down the rich sweet aftertaste of smoke in his mouth with sloshes of whiskey. He is sitting cross legged on the bed, while Izaya rests his back against the headboard, having dug out a soft navy blue blanket to wrap himself with from a cubbyhole in the mudroom built-in storage - Shizuo had long forgotten its very existence so the cloth must be dusty and unsanitary but Izaya has always liked it and he doesn't seem to mind now. 

Shizuo lits up another Cuban cigar. Izaya steals a drag from it because while he's hardly a smoker, this is something to be savored. Tingling rush of prime liquor and nicotine hits Shizuo all over his body with warmth, unties the knot in his guts like a potent spell. He feels as if he has just let out a breath he'd been holding for a long time. Like he has touched down on the ground only now realizing he'd been drifting about, anxious and untethered. It's been way too long since Shizuo indulged himself like this, treated himself to delicacies. More accurately - was treated. And why the hell was that? It felt _good_ being spoiled, and it's not like Shizuo couldn't afford it from time to time. Maybe he just needed to be reminded.

Cool wafts of fresh moist air slide through a window left ajar, melting with soothing murmur of rain. It feels intimate, as if the two of them were cocooned in this night alone, inside the dim yellow hue of a bedlamp and warmth of Shizuo's room. No one is out and about, not at this hour, not in this weather. The city dwells suspended in sleep, as if it has put itself on pause just to grant two people their space.

"What went wrong?" Shizuo asks. 

Maybe it's the alcohol or maybe weariness from the sleepless night brimming with too many emotions to process all at once that does it. One way or another, the question is out in the open now after months of hanging suspended in silence.

Izaya's body goes rigid, like it's turning into a wall in and off itself.

"You're gonna have to be a bit more specific than that, Shizu-chan."

He's being difficult on purpose, with the intent of sending Shizuo on a feat of anger, and it is in this moment that Shizuo comes to realize just how much of his rage invoked by Izaya has been in fact about feelings of helplessness. 

Evasive is one word for Izaya. Shizuo doesn't get provoked this time around, ready to drop it when Izaya decides to pick it up himself. Taking a sip from his glass of whiskey, he recounts what Shizuo had once thrown at him almost word for word.

"I accepted a commission from a well paying client and agreed to help him frame you for mugging."

Shizuo had plenty enough time to process that thought but it still stings. He knows it to be factually true even if it doesn't add up in his mind. Maybe that means Shizuo is still in denial. 

Or maybe, he has always known better.

"How long have you been protecting me?" It's not even 'had'.

"Protecting you?" Izaya looks at him like Shizuo has finally, completely lost it. 

But he isn't laughing.

"Yes, protecting me." Shizuo doesn't budge. "Ever since we first got together, my life took an inexplicable turn for the better. It was smooth-sailing like never before."

"Mm." Izaya nods. "Does it feel awkward to finally realize that so many of your tantrums stemmed from sheer sexual frustration?"

"Fuck you!" Shizuo throws his not-quite empty glass of whiskey against the wall to Izaya's right. It splatters in a piercing clash.

Izaya doesn't flinch. Never does. He is just looking at Shizuo, really looking at him.

"That Takeuchi bastard must have been hell-bent on taking me out of the equation to risk approaching _you_ for help," Shizuo carries on. "Which means he wouldn't have let it go if you had simply turned down his offer. No, he would have gone to somebody else and if that didn't work, he would have kept digging until he found a way or he would have _made_ a way. To suss out his angle, you would need to make it as if you were playing along."

Izaya purses his lips, like he's about to say something to that, maybe let Shizuo know about all the places where he's missed the mark, all the things he still failed to figure out. Instead, Izaya tips his head resting it against the headboard and sighs.

"My, my. How twisted," he marvels, but there's no fight left in his voice. "I didn't think you had it in you."

"So it _is_ true." Shizuo says, astonished. "And it wasn't just that one time, I'm sure of it."

Izaya snickers. "But honey, I swear they all meant nothing to me."

Shizuo is not amused.

"You're blowing this out of proportions, Shizuo," Izaya mumbles over the brim of his glass. "It was mostly self-serving. You're far more agreeable when no one is stepping on your toes so I simply saw to it that no one did."

Nothing about this is 'simple'. It's a lot to take in at the asscrack of dawn. It's confirmation of what Shizuo used to imagine were pathetic delusions he had conceived in order to dull the pain and get through another day. 

"And now?" He asks.

"What now."

"The assaults never got worse. You're obviously still taking trash out of my path before I even get a wind of them," Shizuo says. "Why?" 

Izaya doesn't look at him.

"You only ever did it to placate me, right?" Shizuo shrugs. "So what do you care now, Izaya-kun."

Izaya keeps on staring at the wall with glassy eyes. He offers no explanation or so much as a sound, sitting with his arms wrapped around bended knees. Closed off. 

"Why didn't you say anything?" 

A tear streams down Izaya's cheek but he doesn't seem to notice, remaining impassive.

On the inside, Shizuo feels himself scream. _Ten months._ He has made it through ten miserable fucking months, feeling like shit, never willing himself to look ahead because there was nothing to look forward to. It was one thing when this seemed inevitable, an obvious aftermath of being backstabbed by someone he loved more than life itself. But now that Shizuo knows this wasn't the case... in a way, this almost makes it worse. Part of Shizuo takes vindictive pleasure in Izaya's tears.

"I _asked_ you that day, Izaya," he says, voice low and precise. "I remember specifically asking you whether or not you really accepted that job."

"But I did."

"What, and you didn't think some context was due?!"

Izaya swallows down hard. Still gazing blankly ahead, he says,

"You had been acting on edge for days, Shizuo. You were going out of your mind and I didn't know what was happening until you flat out asked me if I was screwing you over."

Izaya licks his lips. It is with effort that he unsticks his gaze from the worn tapestry and fixes it on Shizuo.

"You didn't know," he says. "And we're not talking pranks. You didn't know whether or not I was going to put you in jail for years."

Shizuo is taken aback but he refuses to take any blame for this.

"I asked you because I didn't believe what I had been told," he says "I would hear it from you. If I hadn't trusted you, why the hell would I listen to a word you say!"

"Get off that mighty horse, Shizuo." Izaya pulls a face. "So you thought me _possibly_ capable of ruining your life but not of lying to you about it?"

"Stop twisting things."

"I'm not! That is precisely the crux of it."

"I would have known if you were lying to me."

Izaya cocks his head and stares Shizuo down in the universal _give-me-a-break_ fashion. Fair.

"If you had only explained everything like you did just now-"

"You would have breathed a sigh of relief, yes," Izaya speaks over him. "You would have rested easier. For how long?" He frowns. "In broad terms, you figured it out on your own now, but how much time do you think would have passed before doubts started gnawing at you again if the story had come from _me_? Give it a couple of days, you would have reminded yourself that I hadn't earned my reputation as skillful manipulator for telling it as it is."

Shizuo grits his teeth. There's a sinking feeling in his gut that this is exactly how it would have played out.

Izaya sets his glass on a nightstand with a clink. He hoists himself up to his knees and moves over to Shizuo. He doesn't stop until his face is hovering above Shizuo, unnervingly close. Claret eyes bore into his brown ones.

"What are you doing?"

"Close your eyes."

"Why?" Shizuo scowls.

Izaya sits back. His mouth curls on a smile so soft and open it melts a hardened shard in Shizuo's chest.

"_This_ is what went wrong."

Shizuo feels out of his depth. Always does, his husband around.

"Shitty flea," he spits out the words. "You don't think much of me if you think you can talk me into trusting _you_ blindly."

Izaya pastes on a smirk. "Well, I happen to think it was worth a try," he says. "Don't you?"

As Izaya scrambles out of bed, Shizuo catches him on instinct, without knowing what for. Where Izaya runs, Shizuo chases after. That doesn't change. They're clockwork pieces falling into place effortlessly by design. So long as they don't put a dent in it themselves.

And after all, Shizuo has made a promise.

He drags Izaya back to bed, presses him to the mattress, pins him under his weight. Sliding the tip of his nose down the side of Izaya's, breathing wet and warm in his face, biting his lip, Shizuo carefully looks over his husband's face. Izaya doesn't flinch. He never does. Not when Shizuo loses himself in rage, not when he's at his worst.

For the first time, Shizuo feels like maybe he can do the same.

_It's all about sex,_ Izaya used to say, mostly to provoke Shizuo into sulking anger, while maybe sometimes also to hear him argue. Years after, Shizuo reconsiders. There's something visceral about love that needs a physical membrane to fully express and reverberate. He thinks maybe that's why the world was created in the first place, maybe this is all one unbounded, deafening _shout_.

There's more to it, like bursts of fresh air that come rushing in along with Izaya every time he steps over the threshold. Sprinkles of snow on his shoulders, the way his eyes snap to Shizuo. It's all physical. Reality is perfectly exact and unambiguous. When it goes wrong, it feels wrong, when it's right, well-

Shizuo has Izaya splayed out underneath him, gleaming eyes and slick slide of ink black hair, soft skin and bathing warmth of mouth, and he drinks him up like he'd been dying to. Shizuo could scream once it hits him full force what minds can contort.

In the morning, when Shizuo steps out of the shower, dark rings around his eyes and damp hair still oily disgusting because Izaya had used up all the remnant shampoo, his husband glances at him over the breakfast tv and snickers, entirely unrepentant.

He's perched right at the edge of a stool, like a bird ready to fly off.

There are so many things to figure out yet, maybe a whole world to take on. But first things first.

Shizuo covers the distance between them.

"Remember," he says. "When I agreed to marry you, I said you would make me regret it." Izaya's gaze snaps up to him, eyes full of wonder. "And you said-"

Izaya cuts him off, throwing his arms around Shizuo's neck and pulling him in for a kiss. He smiles into his mouth, huffing a small breath of overwhelm.

"_Repeatedly._"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for this story! :) I just noticed now that it's been 10 months since I started and promptly abandoned this fic. Poetic!
> 
> I think I always enjoyed exploring in my work the theme of bodies and physicality in general as means of expression, a unique imprint of relationships. Not that that's particularly novel; fanfiction is all about it. :P In any case, I don't think that I've ever done it so explicitly before.
> 
> If you wish to put your ghosts to rest with this story, and also find out what song Izaya used to taunt his estranged husband with, playing it during his late night broadcasts, here goes: [Yoko Kanno - Call Me Call Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q01xzz57SGQ)
> 
> I always love to hear from you! <3


End file.
